Performance Anxiety
by Nmoreblack
Summary: It takes fourteen years, liquid courage, and more than a little persuasion to earn a "yes," and just a spare bit of gossip to make her want to take it back.
1. Chapter 1

She is fifty miles from home, surrounded by people she doesn't know, in the midst of a setting she'd only ever seen in TV shows before this day— a large lecture hall filled with stadium-like rows built for a huge number of students. Yet, as soon as Katniss sits down, the back of her neck prickles with a sensation that is eerily familiar.

She pulls her braid over her shoulder, using the opportunity to crane her neck back so she can surreptitiously scan her surroundings. Her teeth tug at her lower lip self-consciously when she catches the curious stares of the students in the seats behind her, and she's just about to turn back and pretend she was merely stretching when she spots him.

Bright blues eyes widen, then flit away. Without thinking, Katniss sits up and leans towards him, as if better posture can improve her vision and confirm that, yes, Peeta Mellark is in her lecture hall, and not unlike he did at the age of 11, 12, 13 and pretty much every year after that, he'd been staring at the back of her head in the middle of a classroom.

As if sensing that he can't really get away with averting his gaze and pretending he hadn't seen her— not when they're in the same class, in the same school (a fact she'd previously been unaware of)— Peeta glances back at her and smiles sheepishly, the right corner of his mouth tugging to the side until a dimple appears. He gives a short wave, too, then focuses back on his notebook.

Her mouth is agape and it takes her a moment to realize it, but as she hears the professor clearing her throat from the lectern at the front, she lets her jaw snap shut and slowly turns forward.

It's impossible to feel violated, as much as she wants to. Because, for one thing, it's _Peeta Mellark_. And while she's scarcely shared more than a few words with him in all the years they've gone to school together, she knows he's too sweet and good-natured to ever be considered threatening. Only he could get away with staring at a girl year after year like she was a science project and still come off as well-meaning and harmless.

And secondly, she's the one in foreign territory. Peeta, along with the majority of her graduating class, had gone to college right after graduation and was currently in his second year while Katniss is just getting her feet wet as a freshman. She had stayed behind for a year to save up money and help her sister through her first year of high school. It hadn't even registered to her that Peeta would attend one of the nearby state colleges. Her good friend Madge did, but if Katniss ever had to guess where Peeta Mellark would end up, she'd have assumed he got some wrestling scholarship or went to a fancy private school his parents could afford.

But really, more than anything, after being away from her sister for the longest period in her life, struggling to find her way through the sprawling campus, and having to adjust to rooming with three girls, the familiarity of having his curious eyes on her is something she can take secret comfort in, eerie or not.

* * *

"Well, this is familiar."

Madge's droll voice cuts into her thoughts, ones Katniss can't quite recall as she shakes herself out of a daze.

"What?" Katniss asks defensively at Madge's knowing smirk.

"I dunno, just you and Peeta Mellark…staring at each other from across the room." Katniss' eyes bug out and Madge's grin only widens. Before Katniss can respond, in what would probably be embarrassing sputters, her friend continues. "I mean, it's kind of comforting. Good to know you're settling in."

Katniss' eyes narrow, but Madge merely picks up her sandwich and takes a dainty bite, beyond used to being on the receiving end of that scowl.

"I don't even know what you're talking about. I was just staring off into space. Probably because if I have to hear you talk about which nail polish colors you're choosing between again, I'm gonna stab myself with a fork."

At this, Katniss does stab her fork into a piece of chicken on her plate, the teriyaki sauce only somewhat improving its rubbery texture.

"_Snow Me White_…I decided like five minutes ago. If you'd been paying attention."

Katniss scrunches up her nose at this, wondering when simple choices like cerulean blue and forest green were thrown by the wayside; but then, the fact that she would choose a nail polish color by the names of Crayons is probably why she never goes with Madge to get manicures.

"And we weren't staring at each other!" Katniss blurts out, still troubled by Madge's comment and her insufferable nonchalance about it. "I didn't even know he went here. I was surprised. For someone who gossips as much as you, you managed to leave out that little tidbit."

Madge takes a sip of her sparkling water, refusing to rise to the bait. "Well, why didn't you ask me about it when you saw him, then? Unless you had spotted him already and just wanted to admire from afar."

Katniss is regretting college more and more by the minute, especially her decision to room with the girl across from her. "Maybe I just wanted him to know what it feels like," she snaps, hating the petulance in her voice.

"Well, I'm sure he does now," Madge says. "He probably felt your creeper gaze on him—"

Katniss drops her plastic fork with a clatter to the table. "You are such—"

"Because he's staring at you right now," Madge finishes.

Katniss only just stops herself from whipping her head around to exactly where she knows he's sitting in the crowded student union. She spares Madge a quick glare, before slowly raising her eyes to his.

His mouth drops open, clearly caught off guard again at being spotted, which is a little ridiculous, Katniss thinks with derision, considering how obvious he's always been. When he doesn't do anything but gape at her, she raises her eyebrows at him, silently imploring him, not-so-kindly, to explain why he's staring at her. He just smiles sheepishly at her again, his cheeks stained pink, and then manages a quick wave to Madge, one that feels much more relaxed as his smile widens confidently.

Katniss can feel her mouth twitching in a frown.

"So I guess he was staring at _you_, smartass," Katniss snipes at her. She feels her irritation grow, especially at the kind, almost welcoming grin Madge had plastered on her face when she waved back at Peeta.

"Ha!" Madge snorts, the action almost strange coming from such a well-mannered girl who never has a shiny hair out of place. "Totally. If that's the case, he needs to get his eyes checked, because he's been staring at the wrong girl for the last, like, fifteen years."

Madge draws out her phone to send a quick text message, and the last thing Katniss wants to do is start a fight with the only friend she has here, especially one she has to share a bedroom with. So she makes her way through the rest of her rice in silence, hoping that Madge will forget what they were talking about and explain what the hell kind of shade "snow me white" is.

"So I take it you haven't talked to him yet?" Madge says as she glances up.

No such luck.

"He's in my Psych class," she shrugs. "I felt _his_ creeper gaze, okay?"

"Okay, I was just teasing you!" Madge says, dropping her phone to the table and putting her hands up in a defensive gesture. But when she crosses her arms on the table top and leans forward, Katniss knows she's in trouble. "He's not a creep though. Peeta's a really nice guy."

"Oh, so you're friends with him now?"

"Of course I'm friends with him!" Madge laughs. "We've known him since kindergarten!"

"Well, I'm not his friend. I've barely—"

"Spoken two words to him? Looked in his direction?" she asks with an eye roll. "Yeah, we know. Therein lies the problem."

"God, English majors are the worst," Katniss groans, wiping her mouth with a napkin. "Are you using the royal 'we'?"

"Katniss," she says seriously, tucking her phone into her purse and leveling her with a serious look, "Prepare to get friendly."

* * *

"I fucking hate you."

"Can you stop bitching and start handing me beers?" Madge asks, crouched in front of the fridge, knocking over Diet Cokes to make room. "We both know if you didn't really wanna be here, you'd be hiding in the library right now. So relax."

Katniss heaves a sigh before leaning down and pulling green bottle necks from the case. "Heineken? You're one classy chick," she says, handing them to Madge.

"We are not going to be one of those dorm rooms with a beer can pyramid in the corner, I'll tell you that right now."

"I'll remember that when you start drinking from your box of wine like it's a juice box," Katniss says.

"Hey, that was one time and it was at the very bottom of the bag!" Madge protests.

"And you were plastered."

"That, too," Madge says with a smirk. "Besides, that won't happen again. This is just a relaxed study group, get together thing."

Katniss laughs and hands her the last of the beers. "Oh, very convincing. That's why you bought a 24 pack." She stands, breaking down the cardboard beer case before tossing it in the recycling. "_And_ invited Peeta Mellark," she grumbles quietly.

She looks up from where her arms are crossed to find Madge smiling at her, annoyingly.

"You don't have a problem with Darius coming over, or Glimmer, or—"

"I do, actually," Katniss says shortly, "Darius sits too close to me, and Glimmer never shuts up."

"Like I said," Madge responds easily, turning to unload the rest of the groceries. "If you had such a problem, you wouldn't be here. And you wouldn't have spent all that time in the bathroom—"

"I had to dry my hair!" The frantic whine in her voice makes her clam up as soon as the words have left her mouth.

"I didn't even know you knew where the hair dryer was," Madge says lightly, a smile evident in her voice.

"Whatever," Katniss says, struggling for a better retort. "I just don't like this weird set-up thing you think you're being so stealthy about. Like I'm not gonna be uncomfortable enough."

Madge tosses the empty grocery bag in a drawer and mimics Katniss' position, leaning against the counter, arms crossed at her chest. Though she manages to look cooly indifferent, whereas Katniss can feel the defensiveness in her own posture.

"Oh, did you not set Gale and I up, pot?" she teases.

"Only because you were in love with him for like, ever, kettle. And didn't do anything about it!"

"And I appreciate the push," Mage responds, pressing a hand to her chest in mock-sincerity. Katniss rolls her eyes. "Who else is going to buy us beer?"

Katniss has every intention of teasing her further, well aware that Madge's feelings for Gale go much deeper than some girl enjoying the perks of a hot, older boyfriend, but before she can, Madge steers the conversation back to Katniss, something she's only growing more adept at.

"So anyway, from one lovesick fool to another, consider this me returning the favor."

Katniss' eyebrows pinch in confusion. "How is this a favor for me?"

"Who said I was talking about you?" Madge retorts, leaving the kitchen to join their roommates in tidying up their living room.

* * *

The luxury of living with Madge, a second year, is that she was able to pull Katniss into her student housing apartment, something Katniss would have had no shot at getting as a freshman. Instead of living in a 10x12 brick-walled box, she and Madge share a two-bedroom suite, complete with living room and kitchen, with two other girls.

Though she is no stranger to sharing a tight space, it was a definite adjustment for Katniss to live with anyone other than her mother and Prim. Fortunately, she and Madge seemed to luck out in the roommate lottery because they got two of the quietest, most mild-mannered girls in existence. Annie is shy and sweet, though she has a tendency to drift and get caught up in her own head, something Katniss was all too familiar with. Lacey is never big on chatting either, though Katniss suspects from her animated expressions that the redhead is full of opinions she doesn't express.

So Katniss is surprised that her roommates were so amenable when Madge sprung the "study group" party on them at the last minute. Instead of asking Madge to keep it down, or locking themselves in their shared bedroom, Annie and Lacey both cracked open a beer and plopped down on the couch, their textbooks forgotten on the coffee table as they watched the TV and waited for people to arrive.

Katniss is surveying the both of them critically, wondering how she suddenly became the stick in the mud amongst their group, when she hears a knock at the door. Gale had said he'd be back after he grabbed some more stuff from his truck, so Katniss doesn't think twice before walking to the door and swinging it open.

Her expression immediately settles into a discomforted frown at the sight of Peeta Mellark, and whatever he had been about to say dies on his lips as his jaw hangs open, his expression frozen at the sight of her.

"I'm—" he finally says, stopping short immediately. He seems to regroup after a moment and his mouth forms into a friendly smile, as if through sheer force of will, and he tries again. "Sorry, I just realized I'm probably a bit early," he says, craning his head to see her roommates sitting idly on the couch.

"Peeta!"

Madge sidles up to Katniss, who startles, though Madge's sandals smacking against the wood floor should have been signal enough.

"Hey!" he returns brightly, shifting the tray he's holding (another thing Katniss failed to notice) and giving Madge a one-armed hug.

Katniss can only imagine the kind of expression she must have on her face, because as Peeta catches her eye over Madge's shoulder, he pulls back and turns to Katniss. She draws up immediately, unsure of how to react if he moves in for a hug, but instead, he steps back from Madge and gives Katniss a short wave. "Hey Katniss, good to see you," he says, his eyes not quite on her face.

It can't be offense that she feels, but something about the exchange makes her mouth purse like she's tasting something sour. When Katniss turns to Madge for some kind of silent comfort or communication— something she's become startlingly reliant on— she only finds her friend's answering smile, one that's more smug than anything else, and Katniss rolls her eyes predictably.

"Peeta, that looks amazing. Katniss, can you help him to the kitchen with that?" Madge pushes her forward gently and it's only due to her quick reflexes that she doesn't trip over her own feet. She turns her head sharply to find Madge retreating back to the living room without another wave.

Unthinkingly, she sighs in irritation before feeling the familiarity of Peeta's gaze burning into the back of her head yet again. She turns back to him, and the corner of his mouth kicks up in a small smile, almost like a twitch he has.

"Sorry, I, uh," he starts, gesturing between the two of them. She can't begin to predict what he could be apologizing for, as if Peeta Mellark has ever committed an offense in his life. "You're probably sick of me waving at you," he jokes, playing off what must be embarrassment, judging from the light pink blush across his cheeks.

"Especially from across crowded rooms," Katniss says pointedly. Though she meant to inject humor in her tone, it seems it was too dry for him to pick up on, because his ears turn even redder and he seems to be suppressing a gulp. "Kidding," she says lightly, motioning him to follow her.

He follows her the few steps it takes to get to the kitchen, which is only separated from the living room by a row of cabinets. "Here's the kitchen Madge wanted me to show you," Katniss gestures around the small space.

"Well, thank you for the guidance," Peeta says. "I would have gotten lost on the way to the east wing."

Katniss is grateful he's focused on the tray of food he's currently unwrapping, because that was definitely a snort that came out of her in response. Peeta turns back to her quickly, with almost boyish satisfaction on his face, but she schools her expression back into a tight frown.

She's about to leave the kitchen and find a safe space in the corner of the living room where she can sneak away before too long, but she finds herself focused on the tray he's unwrapping.

"What is that?" she asks, moving beside him.

Her arm brushes against his and she can barely register the soft flannel of his rolled up sleeve before he startles slightly, only just managing to right the tray before it falls off the counter. She looks up at him questioningly, but his attention is riveted to the food in front of him and he begins speaking rapidly.

"It's crostini," Peeta says lightly, his voice going up uncertainly, as if in a question. "Anyway, that's just like a fancy word for toast with stuff on top. Good bread is what really makes it. These ones are topped with goat cheese and olive slices," he says, gesturing to the left half of the tray, and she follows the movement of his strong hands, masculine and smooth but for an array of tiny white scars like an interrupted pattern on his skin. "These other ones have olive oil, basil, cherry tomatoes and sea salt."

"Like bruschetta?" she asks brightly, excited at the prospect.

He finally brings his eyes up to hers and, for the first time, she can really register the deep blue that was always striking, even from a distance. He smiles at her so sweetly that her breath stutters; she prays he can't hear its erratic pattern.

"Yeah, exactly like that. You like Italian food?" he asks.

"You mean carbs and cheese and tomato sauce? Yes. Yes, I like Italian." She goes for the same wryness that usually affects her tone, but at the sound of his rich laugh, she laughs, too…just a little.

"Me, too," Peeta says in excitement, as if it's the most interesting thing he's heard all day. "If we didn't have a free gym at this school, I'd be about 300 pounds thanks to chicken parm."

And if he hadn't said that exactly, then she might have made it out of the kitchen with some degree of the indifference she was aiming to maintain, and then not spared him more than a cursory glance the rest of the evening. But instead, her eyes drop to travel over his physique, broad shouldered and slim waisted, with lightly freckled forearms that show off their granite muscles as he shifts the crostini on the tray.

"So what's your major?" Katniss blurts out. Her face immediately flushes. Not _that_, of all the questions she could have asked— the most trite and banal question college students hear on a regular basis. She's never been a skilled conversationalist, but she could have at least steered away from that cringe-inducing question. "Sorry. God," she says almost to herself.

He chuckles and turns to lean his hip against the counter, eyeing her with amusement. "It's okay. I'm not really decided yet. I'm considering Business, English, Art…you know, basically anything that won't guarantee me a job."

She laughs again and he watches her too intently, so she plays with a strand of her loose hair instead of making eye contact.

"Same." Before the silence drags on too long, he speaks again.

"Do you miss Prim at all?"

Her eyes shoot up.

"What?" she asks sharply.

"I'm just—" He fumbles, turning back to the food before seeming to realize there's nothing for him to do with it. "Your sister. You two were always so close. I was just wondering, you know, how things are for you…being here…"

She waits for him to continue, but he studies his shoes like he wants to be anywhere else.

"Prim is 15. I'm sure she can deal. Besides, the last thing she wants is an overbearing sister hanging around." Her tone had started off as dismissive, as annoyed by Peeta's invasive question as she is by his stares, but there's a vulnerability that creeps in that she's immediately ashamed of, especially in his presence.

"Do you mind if I get a drink?" he asks.

Her eyes widen at this non-sequitur and she stutters an affirmative before gesturing to the fridge. He pulls out two Heinekens, gesturing to her with one in question, and she nods quickly. He locates the bottle opener magnet on the fridge without her direction and opens both of them before handing her one.

She sips quietly, thankful for something to do with her hands.

"I have two older brothers—"

"I know," she cuts in, surprising even herself. His mouth relaxes into ghost of a smile that makes her stomach tighten.

"Well, yeah, they uh—" Peeta starts, taking a sip of his beer and staring off in thought before returning his gaze to hers. "They're great. I love them, you know? But we were never very close. It was the usual brotherly stuff. Gross sex talk I didn't wanna hear." Her face burns and she resists the urge to bring the cold bottle to her cheek. "Play fighting. Name calling. But we never really talked that much, they ignored me in the hallways at school…"

He looks wryly amused at his own confession, and she's amazed at his ability to offer up such vulnerability to a stranger…to offer it up at all, really, without someone backing him into it.

"Anyway, you and Prim always seemed so close. Like she was the most important thing to you in the world. I always kind of wondered what that would be like."

"Hard," she says simply, but he grins at her and she can't help but return it. "Yeah, I do miss her. But it's good for her to get space without me bossing her around all the time. It's probably good for me, too."

She rolls her eyes good-naturedly, but instead of giving her another dimpled smile, Peeta takes a step closer to her and opens his mouth to say something.

"Excuse me!" Madge says primly, and Katniss turns her head in surprise to see where her friend has entered the kitchen and is eyeing them both with barely concealed amusement. "Some of us are hungry out here."

Katniss immediately pushes off the counter, making sure not to brush against Peeta when she walks past— a feat, considering how close he was to her in their small kitchen. She schools her expression into one of wry exasperation, but she doesn't make eye contact with either of them as she walks out, so she has no idea whether or not they bought it. An even bigger mystery is why she has to suck in air like she's been holding her breath.

* * *

"Hey Kat, there's room here next to me!" Darius pats the spot on the sofa next to him, and though he waggles his eyes exaggeratedly like he's just fooling around, the way he always leans into her and breathes her in when he's drunk tells her that there's a good chance he's partly serious.

"'Scuse me," Peeta says, and she almost jumps at his soft voice behind her before he brushes past to move in front of the couch, setting down the crostini. "My contribution to the study snacks. At least before we get drunk and decide to order a bunch of crappy pizza," he says, pushing the tray to the middle before sinking down onto the couch, right next to Darius.

"Hey man! This is Katniss' seat," Darius tells him, shoving him in the ribs good-naturedly.

Katniss can't think where Peeta and Darius might have met; though they all grew up in the same town, Darius is older and ran in Gale's circle, one that was decidedly separate from Peeta who hung out with everyone from the football team to the yearbook nerds, whereas Gale and Darius skivved off half their classes working part-time jobs and doing god knows what else. But like everyone else he meets, Peeta seems to have charmed his way into a friendship with the redhead.

"Sorry, man. I just wanted to be close to you," Peeta says, and some of the girls giggle, including Glimmer, who Katniss just now realized is sitting in the corner. "Katniss, did you want this seat?" Peeta looks up at her questioningly, but she can read the knowing look in his eye, probably just as well as he can read her reluctance to sit close to Darius.

"Nahh, I'm not about to come between the two of you," Katniss jokes mildly, and drops into the seat next to Peeta on the other end of the couch. She can see in her peripheral that his eyebrows go up in surprise, but she pretends not to notice and immediately grabs for a piece of bruschetta.

"Always count on Catnip to be the first one to eat," Gale says as he leans forward to help himself before settling back in the La-Z-Boy, a huge concession from Madge, who thought the chair was too ugly to put next to the beautiful couches her father had outfitted the apartment with. But she looks happy enough perched there in his lap and Katniss doesn't want to think about the methods Gale used to persuade her into allowing his ratty old chair into their living room.

"You're welcome, Miss Manners. Don't think I didn't notice that you grabbed two," Katniss shoots back around a bite of juicy tomato.

"Look at this goat cheese!" he says in wonder, holding the piece of bread up to his face. "Peeta, you realize you could have just bought a couple bags of Cheetos at the gas station, right?"

Madge pinches Gale's arm and he yelps. "Peeta, this is amazing. Ignore these barbarians, I once caught them eating Spaghettios with sporks."

Everyone laughs, even Annie, whose lilting giggle makes Katniss smile.

"Spaghettios are bomb, Madge! What are you talking about?" Darius asks, aghast.

"Eww!" Glimmer whines. "It's basically all sodium."

"I know," Madge says sagely. "And they were sharing a can on the floor. They looked like a couple of hobos."

"Snob!" Darius calls out, drawing it out like he's sounding a horn and Katniss tries not to laugh, not wanting to draw his attention back to her.

"What, you want me to eat Spaghettios in a three-piece suit?" Gale asks his girlfriend. "'Too much sodium.' Woman, what do you think is in those Lean Cuisines you eat?"

Madge and Gale start bickering and, just as predicted, absolutely no studying is going on. It's only the first week of classes, so it's not as if anyone's even close to being swamped yet, but Katniss notices all the books have been stacked under the coffee table haphazardly, completely forgotten.

Everyone seems to be getting along well and there are no awkward lulls in the conversation and, much like her timid roommates, Katniss has no problem sitting back and just observing the interactions.

She doesn't even think about how much she's eaten until she catches Peeta watching her as she crams another one in her mouth. "What?" she asks through a mouthful, which makes him laugh.

"You really like the bruschetta," he notes.

"Sorry," she says, embarrassed as she tries to return the other piece in her hand to the plate.

"No, no," he says, catching her wrist to stop her. His thumb brushes almost absentmindedly against the soft skin of her inner wrist, and they both pull away like they've been shocked. "Um, enjoy as many as you want. It's the best compliment a cook can get." Peeta grins at her and her lips quirk up timidly. "I just—do you not like olives?" he asks, gesturing to the other pieces on the plate.

"Oh no, I do. I like pretty much everything," she says. "I just really love basil."

"Oh man, me too," Peeta says. "It makes everything taste better. And it smells so good."

Katniss smiles to herself and it takes her a moment to realize he's watching her carefully, waiting for her to respond.

"Sorry, I just—it reminded me of something."

"What?" he asks, his body leaning toward hers almost unconsciously.

"Well," she starts, twisting a loose chunk of wavy hair around her palm. "My mom used to have this amazing herb garden. Herbs for cooking and medicine…all kinds of stuff. When I was little, I used to pick the basil for her and carry it around in a bouquet, sticking my nose into it like they were roses or something." She almost cringes at the memory of such a naive, fanciful girl, but she can't regret the way it always led her father to putting them in a vase in the middle of the table, making a young Katniss giggle and her mom roll her eyes when she came home to find them.

"I can picture it," Peeta says seriously, scrunching his eyes closed. "Dirt all over your hands and face—"

"Stop," Katniss groans, covering her face with her hand.

"—two long braids and an all-green bouquet," he finishes, opening his eyes and giving her a wide, dimpled smile.

"How'd you know I used to wear my hair in two braids?" she asks quietly, dropping her hand to study his face.

"I mean…" he beings timidly, like he's searching for an appropriate answer, "We've known each other since we were five, Katniss."

"I know, but…" She hesitates and furrows her brows. "This is the first time we've ever—"

She gestures between the two of them, and when he speaks again, she's grateful she doesn't have to expand further.

"Well,_ I've_ known _you_ since we were five."

She doesn't have the chance to ask him what that could possibly mean because she's interrupted by a whoop from Darius.

"Yes!" he crows when Gale lands on ESPN. "God, I love football season."

Katniss catches Madge's eye and her expression is so curious and expectant, especially when her eyes dart meaningfully to Peeta, that Katniss averts her gaze and sinks further into the corner of the couch, away from Peeta's eyes as well.

"Peet, you like football?" Darius asks.

"I like it about as much as I like nicknames," Peeta says dryly, a tone Katniss has never heard in his voice.

"Well!" Darius says dramatically, clutching his chest. "Ladies, I just want you to know that I'm not as uptight as Peeta here. You can call me whatever you like," he says with a roguish grin.

"You say that now," Katniss says, "but 'douche nozzle' didn't go over so well last time."

"You, don't even speak to me!" He waves his hand dismissively. "My charms are clearly wasted on you. Excuse me, Glimmer," Darius adds, turning his attention to her. "Have I told you how lovely you look this evening?"

"So 'douche rag' is still on the table?" Glimmer asks, and she and Katniss share a quick smile.

"Peeta, weren't you on the football team?" Gale pries his eyes from the TV and thankfully interrupts before Darius can affect more offense.

"Nah, just the wrestling team."

"Oh, I remember! You were really good," Madge says kindly.

"Didn't you lose to your brother?"

All eyes dart to Katniss and part of her didn't even realize she'd said it out loud.

"Katniss!" Madge says in shock.

"Dude," Gale adds under his breath, snickering and shaking his head.

"Sorry! I just—" Katniss stammers and she can feel her face heat, turning redder the longer everyone stares at her.

"It's okay," Peeta says, laughing lightly. "She's right. I lost to Rye. He was always bigger than I was. And, you know. Better at wrestling."

People laugh kindly, but he turns to Katniss, studying where she's drawn herself into the cushions. The rest of the room seems to fade away and she can't seem to will the blush off her face.

"I didn't know you were there," Peeta says. She merely blinks at him. "You know, the match. With me and Rye."

"The match?" Her voice nearly squeaks, and she feels juvenile in her lack of social graces. If only she'd listened to her mother and learned to keep her mouth shut. "Wasn't it at an assembly or something?"

"No," he says simply. "It was after school."

"Oh," she says. He seems to be waiting for her to expand on it, but the way he's looking at her feels far too expectant and…hopeful. She almost prefers the way his eyes used to dart away nervously after they locked on hers.

"Well, anyway. It was a while ago," Peeta says lightly, finally letting her off the hook. "You remembered that I lost. That's all that matters."

"God, I said I was sorry!" she laughs, resisting the urge to shove him just a little, something she'd never live down if Madge saw. "You made it to the final round, or whatever, right? I dunno, however wrestling works. But you should be proud," she deadpans.

"Man, if only I had had you as my cheerleader, things might have gone very differently," he says, mimicking her tone.

"Forget I ever said anything. Ever," Katniss groans, almost serious. She's no stranger to struggling for words, or even regretting the ones she lets slip out of her mouth heedlessly, but she doesn't generally care so much, especially if there's nothing to gain from the conversation. And maybe it's because he seems to hang so intently on her every badly-chosen word, or the way his words seem so clever and self-assured in comparison, but talking with him makes her feel increasingly self-conscious and uncertain. And she's used to being the surefooted one.

"Oh no, I definitely can't do that," Peeta replies with a short laugh she doesn't understand. "It's actually kind of nice to know you were there. In fact, if I had known…" he trails off and she holds her breath. He finally just shakes his head. "No. I probably would have done worse. Way, way worse." He laughs again, a little deeper this time, but equally self-deprecating.

Her eyebrows furrow in confusion, but she laughs along with him just a little, just for something to do. He's still smiling when he stops, but that appraising gaze travels over her face again and instead of looking away, she finds herself studying the length of his eyelashes.

"I'm sorry. I'm probably making you uncomfortable," he says, gesturing at her, and Katniss notices the way her shoulders are hunched around her protectively, her hands compulsively peeling the label on her empty bottle of beer. She tries to relax, embarrassed that she can't handle a simple interaction without completely retreating into herself, but he speaks again. "We never spoke once in fourteen years, and now in one night I just…can't shut up."

"It is a little surprising," she admits, smiling just a little because now he looks like the uncomfortable one.

"Which do you prefer, do you think?" he asks, narrowing his eyes playfully like he really needs to know her answer.

"I don't know," Katniss draws out thoughtfully. "You ask a lot of questions." He hangs his head like a puppy and can't see that she smiles in response. "But talkative Peeta who gets me food and beer might have a slight edge over mute-Peeta."

"In that case, can I get you another beer?" he asks immediately, running all his words together in a rush. She bursts out laughing and he preens.

Darius looks over at that moment and eyes them almost suspiciously. She feels confident that as soon as Peeta gets up, he's going to scoot over next to her and either jump straight into his come-ons, or grill her about Peeta, and neither possibility is acceptable.

"Um, I'll actually go grab it myself, but thank you," Katniss says, pulling herself up from the couch.

Peeta shakes his head. "Fine, you just made me lose my edge again."

She glares at him, but gestures to his bottle. "Do you want me to grab you another one?"

"Nah, I'm still working on this one." He holds up his half-full bottle. "You don't have to fetch me beer." She won't return his grin again, so she tucks her hair behind her ear and retreats to the kitchen.

But she doesn't even make it to the fridge before she hears two loud sets of feet trail in after her.

"Katniss," Madge sing-songs.

"Oh my god," Glimmer breathes.

Katniss refuses to turn around until she has a another beer cracked open and ready to go.

"You and Peeta look pretty cozy," Madge needles.

"You two are so cute right now, I can't handle it," Glimmer agrees. "Laughing, flirting…"

"We are not flirting!" Katniss finally answers, taking a big gulp of her beer. "Jesus, it's like you guys have never seen two people socialize before."

"Okay, I'll stop you right there," Madge says, holding up a hand, "because socialize is not a word I'd ever associate with you."

"We're a man and a woman talking. What a scandal!" Katniss snaps settling back into another scowl.

"That's not how you talk to Darius," Glimmer points out.

"Darius is like his own annoying species," she starts, struggling for an answer. "And that is how I talk to Gale, so I dunno, Madge, maybe you should watch out. Talking to a male friend must mean I'm two steps away from undoing his pants."

"'_I'm not his friend_,'" Madge says in a deep voice, crossing her arms and mimicking Katniss' position. Katniss immediately drops her arms. "Wow, why does that sound so familiar? Oh! Maybe because that's what you told me about Peeta like, 24 hours ago."

"Didn't you invite him here so I would be his friend?" Katniss asks, struggling to keep her voice down so it doesn't carry into the living room. But their ambush is starting to raise her hackles more than a little.

"Well, yeah," Madge admits. "Because Peeta's funny and smart and super cute, and if you're interested in him as more than a friend, then you should just go for it." Katniss opens her mouth to retort, but Madge beats her to it. "And not deny yourself just because you're stubborn and want to prove us wrong."

"I'm—" Katniss starts and takes a bracing breath. The way they're both staring at her expectantly doesn't help. "Can you two at least pretend to be getting drinks or something?"

They both move around her to the fridge almost cautiously. Madge fills up her wine while Glimmer pours herself a glass of some 'skinny'-something concoction, so Katniss takes the opportunity to speak without feeling like she's under interrogation.

"I've only been talking to him for like 10 minutes, okay? So can you just back off a little? This is only making me more nervous."

"It's been like 40 minutes, actually," Glimmer notes, gesturing toward the oven clock with her head.

"Okay, okay," Madge says, pushing past Glimmer, "we promise to stop pushing—"

"And watching my every movement!" Katniss adds.

"Yeah, that, too," Madge waves off. "If _you_ promise to just keep an open mind."

She and Glimmer watch intently for her response. Katniss just blinks at them boredly. "Sure, consider it open."

* * *

When they had returned from the kitchen, Katniss found Darius leaning over the side of the couch in an intense discussion with Lacey, which led Peeta to give up his seat for her and make his way over to the other couch with Katniss. Though she originally dreaded the added speculation due to their proximity to Gale and Madge, Madge's upheld promise to behave herself made way for much more relaxed conversations, to the point where Katniss stopped trying to disappear into the furniture or fight blushes. In fact, the growing redness on her cheeks throughout the night is due more to the countless beers she's consumed. The rest of them weren't far behind, even sending Gale on another beer run at some point. Peeta offered to walk with him to the liquor store, but Gale smiled almost knowingly and told him to relax and enjoy himself.

"She was that pasty-faced girl, right?" Katniss asks, interrupting Peeta's story about his disastrous time at the junior prom.

"Oh my god, Katniss," Madge wheezes through an unladylike laugh, the first sign she's had too many. "Why do we let you talk?"

"You don't _let_ me do anything," Katniss says haughtily.

"I really wouldn't, if I had my say," Madge answers.

"Okay, Delly was…yes, a little pale," Peeta says carefully. "And, you know, maybe…"

"Pleasantly plump?" Glimmer suggests. Madge and Katniss both gasp and chastise her, but she merely shrugs and drains her drink.

"I'm not even touching that one," Peeta says.

"Oh, I'm sure you didn't," Glimmers says. Madge grabs her stomach, tears leaking from her eyes as she laughs, and Katniss merely snorts and shakes her head at them.

"Okay, that is my cue to go," Peeta says, scratching his head sheepishly, and Katniss is just drunk enough to find it cute.

"Wait, wait!" Madge calls out as he stands. "Why were you with Delly anyway? We didn't get to that part of the story. Didn't you date that Lavinia girl in high school?"

"Umm, not for that long," Peeta says quietly. "A few months."

"Oh yeah!" Glimmer chimes in. "Lav and I were close for a while. I remember that."

"Okay, Peeta would like to leave now before you two bring out the Burn Book," Katniss says, standing up and surprising even herself. She ignores the wide-eyed stares of the two blonde girls and tilts her head towards the door. "Come on," she encourages Peeta and he follows her almost dumbly.

When they get to the door, she pulls it open and Peeta walks through and turns, ready to say goodnight. But Katniss steps out into the hallway with him and pulls the door closed behind her. He's still staring at her, dumbstruck, when she leans against the front door, crossing her arms, but this time to keep warm. She's still in her tank top and it's much colder out here than it was in their apartment.

"Sorry," she says in answer to his silence. "They would've just kept staring at us."

"What are we going to be doing that's so interesting?" he asks, tilting his head and narrowing his gaze playfully, but she can see the dimple forming in his cheek.

"Stop," Katniss admonishes with a laugh. "We could be doing a crossword puzzle and they'd be staring at us." She groans and runs her hand over her forehead. "Sorry, they're even worse when they're drunk. They've watched too many romantic comedies or something."

Peeta's mouth is pulled up in that lopsided grin, and somehow she can tell he'd be happy to stay out here and keep talking all night, but she can't trust herself not to run off at the mouth, especially when she's been drinking, and she's had enough embarrassment for one evening.

"Anyway," Katniss says to break the silence, or to break the almost affectionate, contented look on his face. "Thanks for coming. And putting up with my friends. Oh, and bringing amazing food! I'm actually getting hungry again…" she trails off. "It was actually really good to talk to you, after all these years. Are you okay getting home?"

She's proud of herself for being a good, considerate hostess, and she's ready to go in and brag to Madge about how gracious she can be, when Peeta moves into her.

He's so close that she has to draw in breath, afraid that if she exhales, her chest will up brush against his, which looks equally soft and hard— that broad frame under warm flannel. She can feel the heat of his body against hers and it's doing a much better job of keeping her warm than her own arms were. She sneaks a glance down and notices that their feet are almost touching, and he braces himself on the wall with two arms on either side of her waist, leaning in just slightly.

He's not obscenely tall like Gale, but she has to tilt her head back to meet his intense gaze. It's a scary prospect, but the thumping in her veins and her drunken curiosity doesn't allow for anything else.

"Listen," Peeta says softly, and unnecessarily, because she _is_. "For all intents and purposes, we just met. And something tells me your instinct is going to be to run and hide. Or at least, it would be if you hadn't had half a case of Heineken." He breathes out a laugh and she lets out a shaky one, too. His head ducks for a moment and she thinks maybe he's about to pass out, but instead his nose brushes against her hair for just a fraction of a second before he pulls back again to find her watching him with wide, silvery eyes. "But it's been forever and if I don't take this chance now, I'm kinda scared I'm never going to."

She can hear soft panting and she doesn't know if it's coming from his mouth or hers. Her body stiffens and she's certain he's going to lean in to kiss her, and until the exact moment he does, she has no idea if she'll shove him away or return it.

But he doesn't kiss her.

"Do you wanna maybe get dinner with me?" he asks. "There's this really great Italian restaurant on campus. This husband and wife have owned it for like a century. Just really good food. Rustic. Low key."

She takes this opportunity to blink, something she's not sure she's done in a while. He forges on like he senses hesitation.

"I mean, you don't even have to sit with me. I could just sit by myself in the corner and stare at you through your meal. That way, at least you'd be comfortable," he says, and his laugh breaks up his intensity. She's not sure which she likes more.

"Um," she starts, biting her lip and breaking eye contact for the first time.

"Why don't you think about it?" he asks, brushing hair away from her cheek and tucking it behind her ear. Her answer is on the tip of her tongue when he speaks again. "I should probably force you to answer now and take advantage of your happy drunkenness, but I'd like to earn it for real." He shrugs and steps back. "Let me know, okay? Madge can give you my number. Goodnight, Katniss."

He gives her a short wave, which makes her laugh, before turning and leaving. When she wakes up the next morning, she doesn't remember how long she had stood there before she finally peeled herself off the door.

* * *

"Katniss!"

"Mmmpf," she groans into her pillow.

Cold air hits her bare legs as she feels her covers being dragged back. She rolls closer to the wall.

"Come on! I made smoothies," Madge persists.

Katniss sits up and pushes matted hair out of her eyes. "They better come with a side of waffles."

It turns out, the smoothie is all her hungover stomach can handle and just the thought of a rich breakfast makes her want to retch. Glimmer sits perched on a stool next to her, sucking down Madge's green hangover concoction like it's her lifeline.

"Thanks for letting me stay," she says, looking a little worse for the wear herself. "That couch is more comfortable than my dorm bed."

Madge waves her off. "Of course, Glim, you know you can always stay."

"I didn't know if you'd be sleeping on one of the couches, too, Madge," she says, and Katniss catches Glimmer smiling at her slyly. She's too tired to acknowledge it.

"Why?" Madge laughs.

"Well because I thought Katniss might want the room." She raises her eyebrows pointedly.

Madge whirls around excitedly, a thousand questions on her lips. "Yeah, Katniss. You gave us zero details last night." She leans over the counter and Katniss feels them circling around her like vultures. "You just went out into the hall with him for like 10 minutes, came back and went straight to your bed to pass out. What'd he do to you?"

"You're gross," Katniss mumbles into her glass.

"Gross? What's gross? You could use a little gross," Madge says.

"Seriously," Glimmer adds. "Ten minutes of fooling around, then you're down for the count? That's the dream."

Even Katniss laughs at this, and it makes her eyes ache in her skull. "Nothing happened, okay? I just walked him out and…well—"

"What?!" Glimmer and Madge both ask at once.

"I dunno," Katniss says, swirling her straw in figure eights in her smoothie. "He leaned into me, and then asked me to go to dinner with him. And I think he smelled my hair. I don't know. I could have imagined all of this."

"Ohhhh my god," Glimmer breathes. Madge merely gapes.

"What?" Katniss snaps when they don't say anything else for a minute.

"That is _so_ sweet," Madge says dreamily.

"He leaned in?" Glimmer asks. "And just asked you on a date? Nothing else?"

"I don't know," Katniss says. "I guess he like, tucked my hair, you know? Back behind my ear." Just describing it makes her feel so stupid, but their faces both light up.

"Fucking A," Madge says. "Finally."

"Wait! What'd you say?" Glimmer says, grabbing Katniss' arm, clearly upset she had forgotten this vital piece of information.

"Well, I didn't really say anything, actually," she says, trying to work out the fuzzy details in her mind. "He just told me to think about it."

"Dude, what is there to think about?" Madge asks, pulling out ingredients from the freezer for a second batch of smoothies.

"Um, that we don't know each other? And that I just started school here and dating a guy wasn't really on the agenda?"

"Babe, it's never on the agenda," Glimmer says. "And it's freshman year, okay? No one takes it seriously."

"Okay, I agree with about half of that," Madge cuts in. "Look, I know I'm pushing you, Katniss. But Peeta is so great. And so crazy for you. I just think it would be dumb to let this go. Plus, if anything, it'll get you laid."

"Ugh, I knew we would end up here," Katniss says, pushing her glass away in disgust. "You're obsessed with my sex life."

"Katniss," Madge says, and the sincerity in her tone makes her look up. "You can do whatever you want to do. I just hate that you've only had bad, awkward, meaningless sex. If you just give up forever, it'll be a real tragedy. And if you're with someone like Peeta…I mean, look at how much attention he pays to food! Imagine that kind of intensity focused on you." Her eyes drift off and Katniss is about to ask her what the hell she's thinking about now.

"Well…" Glimmer starts so reluctantly that they almost don't hear her, but they're both drawn out of their thoughts immediately.

"What?" Madge asks quickly.

"Peeta is the greatest, Katniss, really," Glimmer says imploringly, but it only causes Katniss to narrow her eyes suspiciously. "But, um…"

"What?" Madge exclaims when she won't continue. "What's the problem?"

"Well, you know he dated my friend Lavinia, right?"

"Yeah," Madge says cautiously. Even Katniss is sitting upright and listening intently.

"He was a really good boyfriend. Sweet and attentive. Funny—"

"Glimmer, Jesus Christ!" Katniss snaps.

"He's bad in bed!" Glimmer blurts out. She covers her mouth with her hands. "Oh god. I'm sorry."

"No!" Madge gasps. "That's…okay, that's crazy. I mean, even if he were, that was high school. He was probably a virgin, right?" She nods at Katniss encouragingly, but Katniss just looks desperately between the two girls.

"I think so?" Glimmer says uncertainly. "But, well…they did it more than a few times. And I guess it didn't get any better."

"I didn't need to know this," Katniss groans, burying her face in her hands.

"It's fine! Katniss, it's totally fine. It's not a big deal, right?" Madge says brightly, but even without seeing her face, Katniss knows she's giving Glimmer a death glare.

"Fuck. I'm doomed to be hit on by guys who are terrible in bed," Katniss says to herself.

"Stop it! You are not!" Madge insists.

"It's gonna be so awkward now every time I see him in class."

"Wait, you're not gonna go?" Madge asks sharply, all sympathy dropping from her tone.

"Um, out on a date with a guy I barely know that may end in another terrible sexual experience? No, Madge. I'm not gonna go."

"I can't believe you're not even going to give him a chance! Do you know how many guys like Peeta there are in the world?"

Katniss just stares at her and Madge continues to glare at her severely. "Is that a rhetorical question?"

"Yeah, it is! There's no answer because there are so fucking few, no one can find them anyway!" Madge says, moving her arms around like she does when she gets really angry.

"Guys, I'm so sorry," Glimmer says, sounding truly contrite, and desperate to head off their bickering before it escalates further. "I shouldn't have said anything. Shit, I have no idea, okay? That was a few years ago now. I bet he's awesome."

"And even if he isn't," Madge adds, staring Katniss down, "it shouldn't matter that much! It's just sex. It's not all there is to a relationship!"

"This is from the girl who keeps telling me I need to get laid!" Katniss shouts, feeling a surge of anger energize her even when she just wants to fall back in bed and hide under the covers. "And who said I wanted a relationship anyway?"

"It's just one date! He asked for one date, right?" Madge asks almost desperately. "A few hours of your time. You don't have to marry him. You don't have to sleep with him. It's a free dinner, all right?"

Katniss can read the defeat in her friend's posture, the way exhaustion seems to be creeping in, despite the fact that Madge's energy always appears boundless. And she thinks of their two-room apartment suite, and the smoothies, and the shiny MacBook she lets Katniss use all the time to FaceTime Prim.

"I will think about it," Katniss says slowly, and Madge sighs gratefully. "I promise. When I have like five more hours of sleep and some Advil."

Madge smiles at her Katniss shakes her empty glass in her face.

"If I go back to sleep on the couch," Glimmer asks sheepishly, "you guys aren't going to stick my hand in hot water or anything, are you?"

Katniss snorts, but Madge looks like she's seriously considering it.

* * *

When Katniss makes her way into the lecture hall the following Tuesday, she refuses to lift her eyes and scan the room. She makes her way down a few rows, distancing herself from the napping students in the very back, and looks up to find a group of empty seats in the middle. She pulls her notebook out and writes the date on the top. Then the class name. Then her own name, because even though it's written on the inside cover of her notebook, you never know. These few pages could get ripped out or something and she could lose them and they could have really vital information on them. Information she could never recover.

She has drawn about ten different 3D cubes in the corner of the page when her eyes flit up almost involuntarily at movement two rows in front of her. Students have been filing into the hall for the past five minutes, but it's his glinting blonde curls that draw her attention. She's studying the line of his shoulders when his neck starts to crane. She drops her eyes and returns her attention to her notebook, frantically grabbing for her pen, but she manages to knock it off her desk to the floor with a noise he definitely hears. She leans down to grab it, wishing she could keep her head below her knees for the remainder of the class period, and when she sits back up, she can't help that her eyes go straight to him. And he's watching her with barely concealed amusement.

Just as he hadn't been able to the other day, Katniss knows she can't pretend she didn't see him. So she rolls her eyes and shrugs her shoulders at him, dropping her pen onto the tabletop. He smiles even wider at her, but instead of giving her a familiar wave, he just mouths, "Hi." The expression in his eyes is confident and searing, as if they really know each other; as if he hasn't been waiting three days for her answer.

"Hi," she responds under her breath, even though he can't hear it. And he doesn't even try to follow her when she nearly runs out of the room at the end of class.

* * *

She promised Madge she would keep an open mind. And she meant it. Her mind is wide open. To the possibility of saying yes and going on her first real, official date. Of his hand on the small of her back. Of pretending not to be amused by his jokes. Of kissing him. Of sleeping with him just to realize he's clumsy and awkward. Or rough and selfish. Though the latter doesn't seem much like Peeta.

She keeps her mind open to the idea that, after one meal with her, the fascinated glint he gets in his eye whenever she opens her mouth will have faded completely and he'll realize she's just another girl with no interesting stories to share and a chip on her shoulder. That he'll be the great one and she'll just lie there stiffly, terrified by the idea of a person knowing her so intimately, body or mind.

And so she doesn't say no, but she doesn't say yes either.

Until she comes back from class one day to find a large bushel of fresh, deep green basil tied to her doorknob with a bow. And a note attached that says, "To the girl who hates impractical romantic gestures."

Madge makes them pesto that night and Katniss asks if she can get Peeta's number from her phone.

* * *

**A/N: Written for Prompts in Panem, Round 4, Day 4: Pride.**

**I'll try not to keep people waiting too long for the second part. Thanks to anotherbrokencompass for sparking the idea. ;) Find me on tumblr at dirtytalkingpeeta.**


	2. Chapter 2

Peeta was right. This place is perfect and low key and smelled amazing from halfway down the block. Katniss doesn't feel out of place in her jeans and simple blouse, even though Madge had tried pressuring her into a dress, and she had felt inordinately plain when Peeta came to pick her up dressed in a soft blue crewneck sweater that looked like he had just cut the tags off. But she noticed his scuffed brown boots under well fitting khakis and she felt herself relax just a little.

He yammered on about classes the entire ride over, and would glance over at her every few minutes to gauge her reaction. She gave him a simple smile in response, which he took as a signal to keep talking, like he knew it relaxed her.

By the time they were sitting and Peeta had somehow charmed the old Italian woman into serving the both of them wine, Katniss felt relaxed enough to answer some of his questions, though she felt how careful he was being not to pry too much. And she even began asking some of her own, realizing how little she knew about him and how much she had simply assumed.

"I didn't know you painted, too," Katniss says, tearing off a chunk of bread and swirling it around her plate to soak up the leftover sauce.

"Yeah, oils mostly. I use charcoals a lot. I tried sculpting, too. I have steady hands," Peeta says, and she studies them not for the first time. "But my pieces always ended up looking random and abstract. And not in a good way." He laughs. "Kinda clumsy looking, you know?"

"Are you clumsy at anything?" she asks seriously, because even when it came to asking out a girl he'd been scared to talk to for most of his life, he still managed to make sweat break out along her forehead and a "yes" to sit right at the tip of her drunken tongue.

"Um," he starts sheepishly, scratching behind his ear. "Absolutely, yes. But I'd prefer if you don't find out about that until absolutely necessary."

"Okay," she laughs. "And you don't want to do that for a living? Art, I mean. It would be nice to do something you love."

"Um, I don't know," he says uncertainly, leaning forward like he has been most of the night, arms folded on the table. "I'm not sure anyone would ever pay for my stuff." She stops herself from cutting him off to assure him how great his stuff is, how certain he should be, because she's never actually seen any of his work. But she doubts there's any way it could ever be bad. "Anyway, I'm kind of torn. I want to do something I love, but I also don't want to take something I love doing and torture it into a way to make money, you know?"

"Yeah," she says quietly, thinking to herself. "I think I know what you mean."

Peeta brings one arm up to rest his chin on his hand, and she feels him studying her and the way she keeps finding ways to clean everything off of her plate and his.

"What?" she asks self-consciously.

"Nothing," he responds, but his smirk says otherwise. "I just like watching you eat."

She blushes, and gestures to the mushroom she'd stolen off his plate with her fork. "Sorry, did you want that?"

"No, go ahead," he laughs. "I mean it. It's just nice to see you enjoy yourself. Your whole face relaxes. You don't scowl as much."

"It's the wine," she says, struggling not to scowl in response and prove him right. "And you're making me feel like a fatty."

Peeta laughs, deep and rich. "Not even close, and you know it. Besides, you're very graceful about it, even when you're stealing my food. Are _you_ clumsy at anything?"

He's teasing her, but she takes the question seriously for a moment, biting her lip in thought. For some reason, the way he talks to her makes her want to be honest. Even if it's just so he doesn't continue to live with some idealized vision of her. "Just with my mouth."

His lips part on a breath and he freezes just as she does.

"Not like that! I meant-oh fuck," she mutters. "Like _that_." She gestures pathetically at the air between them. "With _words_. Obviously. That's what I meant."

The waitress comes to clear their dishes and Katniss studies the pattern of the tablecloth. They share their first awkward silence of the night.

"Okay, knock it off," Katniss finally says, still not looking up.

"What?" Peeta asks innocently, and she can hear the smile in his voice. "I didn't do anything. You can't even see me."

"I know what you're doing and thinking, so stop it."

"I'm not!" he insists, though the accompanying laugh is unconvincing. "Just look at me." She reluctantly lifts her eyes with an exasperated sigh. His eyes are warm and intense, but there's no trace of a smile on his face. "I was just going to say that you're wrong. You're not clumsy with words."

"Liar," she says immediately.

"You're just…" he continues, "remarkably honest. Which is probably why you keep your mouth shut most of the time." She continues to eye him warily, but her expression softens. "I really kind of like it. Do whatever you want with your mouth."

"Goodbye!" she says, sliding off her chair.

"Wait, wait!" he says through his laughter, grabbing her arm before she can run away...though she was mostly bluffing anyway. His hand slides down her arm to tangle with her fingers, and he runs a thumb over the back of her hand. The air between them feels thick and he looks at her with impossibly blue eyes. "I promise I'll stop. You haven't even ordered dessert."

She reluctantly settles back in her seat. "I'm staying for the drinks," she says, pulling her glass to her and shooting him a warning glare.

His grin turns mischievous again. "You don't want tiramisu?"

She considers this for a moment, but her stomach aches trying to digest her eggplant parmesan and all the garlic bread she inhaled. "That actually sounds amazing," Katniss sighs. "But believe it or not, I am full."

"We'll get it to go then," Peeta says quickly, trying to flag down the waitress.

"No, Peeta! Don't be ridiculous. I don't need dessert."

"You do need dessert. Everyone needs dessert," Peeta says, his expression deadly serious. "Besides, I didn't bring you flowers, so you get tiramisu instead."

Katniss shrugs almost shyly. "You got me basil," she says.

"Well, when you say it out loud, it sounds stupid," Peeta laughs. He tries to play it off, but she can see his ears burning red.

"It wasn't stupid," she says, reaching across the table and putting her hand over his. She meant to just pat it reassuringly, but he turns his hand so they're palm to palm and doesn't let go.

* * *

"Um," Katniss starts, staring at her shoes. "I would invite you up. Really. But Madge is probably there and just...if I have to kill her, I don't want there to be any witnesses."

Peeta tilts his head back and laughs, hands shoved deep in his pockets, and she likes that the streetlamps around the quad illuminate the golden stubble on his jaw.

"I understand," he says. "She's not...Madge hasn't been giving you a hard time has she? About me?"

"Well," Katniss hedges, "Madge gives me a hard time about everything."

"Right," he laughs. "I'm getting that. I just don't want you to feel compelled or...pushed into anything. I didn't put her up to it, I swear."

"Peeta, I know. She can be relentless, but I wouldn't do anything I wasn't comfortable with."

"Okay, good," he says, his sigh of relief audible. "I don't really want to go up there either, honestly. I feel like she's gonna make us pose for pictures like we're at Prom."

"God, you're right," Katniss says, and the image is almost too real to be funny. "I'm so glad she wasn't there when you picked me up."

"I guess I'm lucky. I got a single this year," Peeta says with a shrug. It's just a basic piece of information, but as soon as it leaves his lips the both of them seem to freeze, Peeta's easy expression morphing into wide eyed apprehension.

"Oh yeah?" Katniss asks, and her throats feels uncomfortably dry.

"Mmm," Peeta hums in agreement, like his tongue won't work. He doesn't let the moment go on too long before speaking again. "I got lucky in the housing assignments. Plus, I had a horrible roommate last year that got written up again and again, so I guess they felt sorry for me."

"Lucky," Katniss agrees with a quick laugh. She swallows and tries to get saliva back into her mouth.

"Yeah," Peeta says, pulling his hands out of his pockets and moving half a step closer. "Well, thanks for-"

"Where is it?" Katniss blurts out before he can finish. "Your room," she explains when he just stares at her.

"Oh, um." He points to another dorm building on the other side of the quad, almost identical to the one she lives in. "Just over there."

"Oh. Close."

"Yeah."

"Did you want to hang out?" she asks boldly, remembering the way his hands felt the other night when they brushed against her waist.

"Yeah," he breathes. "Sure. Uh...this way." Peeta gestures his head to the building he'd just pointed out and she laughs. His hand makes it to the small of her back.

* * *

"Wow. This is cozy," Katniss says. And she means it. The room is really only big enough for one person, but it's tidy and he has a few lamps around the room that soften the whole place, and the off-white carpet could be in worse shape. His desk is really the only place where there's any clutter, and he has a few colorful art prints on the wall.

"Thanks," Peeta says, hands in his pockets again as he stands back and lets her observe. "The food situation is a little dire." He nods to a microwave in the corner next to a small electric kettle. "But you can't beat the privacy."

Katniss reaches out to lay her to-go box of dessert on top of his dresser. Then, she moves forward and only allows herself a moment of hesitation before perching on the edge of his twin bed. His adam's apple moves in his throat and she eyes him expectantly. He steps forward, but takes the desk chair a few feet away from her.

Peeta runs his palms up and down his thighs and she notices the way the close-fitting fabric clings to the muscles there.

"Do you get lonely?" Katniss asks, her voice sounding too loud in the small space between them. He seems to be genuinely thinking about his answer before responding.

"Living in this room by myself? Not so much. Like I said, terrible roommate experience," he says, and she nods, leaning closer. "But yeah, I guess I do sometimes. I made a lot of friends last year, but they were mostly partying-type friends, you know? Not so good for actual conversation, and that got old after the first few months."

"And you like people," Katniss notes.

"I do like people," Peeta confirms with amusement.

"You're very...non-judgmental," Katniss ventures. "And you get along with everyone. You don't seem very picky."

"Actually, I like to think I'm _very_ picky about who I spend time with," he says in a low voice, their faces only inches apart.

She swallows, the sound filling the space between them.

"You're different than I thought you would be," Katniss says slowly, her voice barely above a whisper. Peeta's eyes travel over her face like he's trying to gauge whether or not this is a good thing. She gives him a tiny smile.

"You're even better than I imagined," Peeta responds huskily, closing the distance between them before she can blink.

His lips press firmly against hers and it's only a moment before she decides she likes it and closes her eyes to respond. He doesn't try to push it too far, just brushes his lower lip lightly against hers before sealing them around her top lip. His hand reaches up to find purchase on her neck, his thumb sweeping gently over her jaw.

It's a sweet, curious kiss, the slightly calloused flesh of his thumb raising goosebumps on her skin. He pulls away and leans back just a few inches, never letting go of her face, and looks at her with hazy eyes. She almost wants to hate it, but she can hear her own unsteady breaths in the otherwise silent room. Peeta licks his lips like he's trying to savor the taste of her. Her eyelids droop a little watching him.

"I've waited my whole life to do that."

He says it in a daze. He says it so easily and dreamily that she wonders if he meant her to hear it. But she does hear it. And her blood freezes in her veins.

She realizes a second too late that she's been staring at his lips, mostly because they were the last thing she was looking at when he said _that_, and he takes this as a signal to press forward again.

It's about ten seconds into their second kiss when she realizes she's not breathing. Katniss pulls back with a gasp.

"Are you okay?" Peeta asks, his face so close it's nearly making her dizzy. She screws her eyes shut tight and murmurs in the affirmative. Peeta tries to draw his hand away, maybe to repeat the question, but his cold fingers feel good against her neck, which is burning up, so she covers his hand with hers to keep it there.

"Katniss?" he asks softly. He nuzzles the other side of her neck, dragging his nose across the soft skin. She shudders just a little. She is nervous and uncertain and feeling buried under the weight of a million expectations. But he smells so good. And even if he's the one scaring the shit out of her, she still finds his presence comforting.

Katniss takes a shaky breath and pulls back. Peeta's eyes sharpen in focus and his mouth opens, but before he can say anything, she lets herself fall back on the bed. He stammers something she can't make out, but she's too focused on the white of the ceiling and the tightness in her chest. She takes a deep breath.

"Are you-"

She kicks off her shoes and pulls her legs onto the bed, using them to scoot herself backwards so that she's laid out on it, her head on his pillow. She rolls onto her side and looks at him. He's standing now, still a foot from his bed, hands hanging limply at his sides.

She moves so she's right up against the wall, enough room now for his body to lie beside hers. And he takes this as an invitation and kicks his shoes off. He almost stumbles forward before seeming to reconsider, bending over to toe off his socks too. This makes her laugh just a little, a high pitched noise that releases from her along with some of the anxiety.

Peeta gets on his knees on the edge of the bed, and as he lowers himself, he hovers over her for a second, his presence so looming that it makes her heart stutter. But he shifts so he's laying lengthwise next to her, both of them on their sides, their heads sharing his pillow. Everything about his face is open and expectant, as if he's willing, and waiting, to follow her lead. But she doesn't want to lead this. She wants him to know exactly how this goes so she doesn't have to stumble at every step.

His pillow against her cheek smells like masculine soap, and maybe even cinnamon, and she inhales it, her eyes closing briefly. And then his hand at her waist makes her startle. Her shirt has ridden up just a little so that a few of his fingers rest on bare skin. She doesn't notice she's clenching her jaw until his lips ghost over it.

"You okay, Katniss? We don't have to-" he trails off.

She knows what he means. They don't have to do anything. They don't have to have sex, they don't even have to kiss. She could leave here right now and never speak to him again and he'd probably still forgive her. Just the way he looks at her seems like too much sometimes. And what she offers up in return seems so paltry. But he could have this, right now. Even for just the night. And so could she.

"I want to," she says, so softly there's no way he'd have heard it if his ear wasn't mere inches from her lips.

She feels his head lift away and turn toward hers, and she opens her eyes.

"You don't say things you don't mean," Peeta says, though really it's a question. He searches her eyes, his face solemn.

Katniss shakes her head to confirm, resolving to keep her mouth shut as much as possible.

Peeta leans in to kiss her again, coaxing her mouth open and sweeping his tongue inside, but she nearly chokes on it because she's not remembering to breathe through her nose.

"Sorry," she gasps. Peeta's lips are pink and wet when she looks at him, his eyes shining. He shakes his head dismissively and runs a soothing hand through her hair.

This time when he leans in, he goes straight for her neck, covering it with soft kisses, and when she sighs in contentment, he starts to worry the skin with his teeth. Her hand shoots straight to his hair, and she doesn't have the presence of mind to register how long she's thought about touching it.

Goosebumps raise on her skin, but when he moves to her collarbone, his teeth scrape across it almost painfully. She hisses.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he says quickly, pulling back. When he does, his elbow lands on her hair.

"Ow!" she cries out before she can stop herself. It was more startling than painful, but Peeta's face turns completely red in mortification; no faint, freckled blush like she's used to. "It's okay," she hurries to say.

"Um," Peeta swallows and moves away from her, struggling to keep from falling off the narrow bed that scarcely has room for his body alone. "Sorry it's so small. Do you wanna-?" He lays down flat and gestures to his body as if he wants her to climb on top of him.

"No!" she says quickly. She's embarrassed by the franticness in her own voice, but she'd be more embarrassed on top of him, having to take the lead and let him see...everything.

"That's okay," Peeta says soothingly, and he moves to hover over her, his thumb on her cheek. She wishes he'd just keep doing things like that. The frenetic energy coursing through her body seems to slow at these touches.

His presence is still stifling, but she feels safer underneath him, wrapped in a cocoon of his steady warmth. Almost too warm. He's showering soft kisses on her face when she notices the perspiration dotting his forehead. "Are you warm?" she asks, without thinking.

"Oh," he says, pulling back, immediately wiping at his forehead, his face now perpetually flushed. "Yeah, it's just a little hot in here," he says sheepishly.

"Do you want-?" She grabs for the hem of his sweater, and her small fingers brush against his stomach. She feels his muscles jump and when she grazes the hair under his navel, she immediately clenches her fingers into a fist to stop their shaking.

"Yeah, if that's…" he starts, unsteadily. She makes a sound in the affirmative, and pries her fingers open again, pulling his sweater up with both hands. He arches his back over her body and she's pulling it up with ease- until it gets stuck on his ears. She stutters out an apology, but they both manage to get it off, and when he settles down again, his hair is ruffled and his face still sweaty.

"I should have taken this off, too, probably," Peeta says, gesturing to his white undershirt. His smile is nervous, but he quickly pulls it off without meeting her eyes.

It gets thrown somewhere to the side of the bed and soon, he's looming over her again, almost cautiously as if he knows he could smother her, so easily. His eyes are so blue and wide, almost swimming with reverence, that she finds it easier to look at all the newly exposed skin on display. Katniss lifts a trembling hand to his mostly smooth chest and it seems to instantly stop shaking upon contact. She can see his chest heave a bit at her touch, but other than that he's completely still and silent. Her hand ends up resting over his pectoral, feeling the racing thump of his heart.

Peeta finally shifts to one side, still eclipsing her with his broad upper half, one leg resting between hers, and she doesn't know how long she's been staring at her hand on his chest. He raises a hand to her face and gently begins tracing his index finger over her cheeks, then the bridge of her nose, his touch feather-light.

"What are you doing?" she asks with a shaky laugh.

"Counting," he says with a small smile, and she smacks his hand away.

"You're not drawing me," she says sternly, turning her head so that strands of hair obscure her face.

"Too late," he admits sheepishly.

"Peeta," she says warningly, sitting up.

"No, no, I'm kidding," he says quickly, pulling up to sit beside her. "I wouldn't-I mean, I won't." He takes a deep breath and runs his hands up and down her arms, stopping at her shoulders and digging his thumbs into the flesh there. She can't help but to relax a little under his ministrations as he works the tension out of her muscles.

When his fingers catch on the bra straps under her blouse, she pulls back a little.

"I should...probably-"

"Oh, right," Peeta says, dropping his hands, his body deflating. She realizes that he thinks she might be leaving. And maybe this is her opportunity to do it. To scamper out and say she'll see him soon and just keep him in her periphery of friends with the promise of occasional awkward interactions around campus.

"Take this off," she finishes before she can over think it, pulling at the hem of her blouse.

He visibly relaxes for a split second before his muscles tense up again, his mouth forming an "o" around the large breath of air he lets out. The blouse flutters to the floor before either of them can fully register the movement.

Katniss lies back onto the pillow, hoping to be shielded under his broad form again. Peeta is instantly drawn down against her like his body is tethered to hers and all its movements. This time, his eyes are glued to _her_ chest and it's not as if she can protest; she'd done the same thing to him moments ago.

He traces his hand along her flat stomach and it quivers.

"Ticklish," Katniss tells him quietly, biting her lip.

He smirks and runs his fingers over the soft plane again.

"Peeta!" she gasps, grabbing his hand and pulling it away. But in her haste, she only manages to pull it up- right to her sternum, so that his hand lies right between her breasts, clad only in a black bra.

They both seem frozen in the moment, until his fingers spread out, grazing the soft skin above the bra cups.

"You are so-"

She clasps a hand over his mouth, shocking both of them. Whatever he was about to say in that awed, honey-toned voice is muffled, then silenced completely. Knowing Peeta, it would have been too much. She won't believe it anyway, and it's not going to be true tomorrow. So to shut him up and quell the almost hurt look in his eyes, she moves the hand across his mouth to the back of his neck and pulls him in for a kiss.

When their tongues finally touch for the first time, sliding wetly against each other, she whimpers lightly, clouds breaking in her mind. At her noise, he intensifies the kiss, licking under her top lip before drawing it into his mouth and biting on it gently. This almost distracts her from the large hand that's begun grasping at her breast.

Katniss tries to lose herself in the kiss, but his hand is insistent at her chest and it's making the underwire of her bra dig into her skin. She lays her hand over his, trying to gentle the motions, and she's enjoying just the feel of that- her palm against his warm skin, the way it almost feels at home there, though his hand is easily twice the size as hers. But he stops almost immediately, pulling back from the kiss too.

"Is this...not okay?" Peeta asks nervously, glancing down at their hands on her breast.

He looks so desperate to please her and so terrified of overstepping that she wants to say something reassuring, but she's never been good at that.

"No, it's fine. You were just kind of...kneading them," she says hesitantly, searching for the right words.

"Right, sorry," he says quickly, pulling his hand away, leaving hers to fall to the side. "Baker's hands, you know?" He laughs quietly, his voice hitching.

"It's fine," she rushes to say. "I'll just, um-" She reaches behind her to unclasp her bra and his eyes go wide again.

"I can do that," he says quickly, halting her movements. He reaches behind her and his fingertips along the skin of her back make her shiver. "This I think I can manage, at least." He smiles self-deprecatingly, and finds the clasp at her back. He has it undone in just a few seconds and the material goes slack around her chest.

His eyes lift to hers, a question in them. Katniss nods, and he pulls the straps down her arms, lifting the material away and adding it to the pile beside the bed.

"God, Katniss-" Peeta starts, his voice low and rough.

"Shh." She stops him again and, like last time, hurt flashes briefly in his eyes. Katniss grabs his hand and returns it to her now bare breast.

His touch is so light now it's almost painful, and she arches her back to chase after it. Peeta takes the hint and focuses on her nipple, running his thumb over it before pinching it lightly between his fingers. She keens. He hovers closer to her, and though her eyelids are drooping, he maintains eye contact, his own bright and intent in the low light. His mouth drops open as if he's about to say something, but he quickly clamps it shut again.

Katniss squirms underneath him, unwilling to voice her desires now in the persistent quiet. But he sees her movements and leans down, taking a nipple into his mouth.

"Oh!" she gasps, trying to stifle the sounds she's making. Peeta runs the flat of his tongue over it before flicking it repeatedly and her hips move in tandem with his rhythm. He seems to be lost in her, and the way her groin is moving tightly against his thigh, because he bites down just a bit on her nipple and she gasps, this time in discomfort. The pain only last for a second, and it's followed by a rush of endorphins that only encourages her warm, flushed body, but Peeta looks worried again, moving away from her breasts and burying his face in her neck, unwilling to speak or look at her.

Katniss can feel him hard against her thigh though. He still wants her, even though she's nearly ashamed at her own rigidity, her inability to control her reactions, both good and bad, and her mortified reluctance to voice any of her needs. But she can't watch his dejected expressions anymore. He deserves more than this.

"Do you wanna maybe..." she starts, her voice barely a whisper. It helps that he's not looking at her. "Get undressed and get under the covers?"

Her voice sounds clumsy and childish to her own ears, but he lifts his head to look at her, and she runs her hand across his cheek, hoping to soothe him.

"You're sure?" he asks hoarsely.

She unbuttons her jeans in answer. He falls onto his back beside her and they both lift their hips to shuck off their pants, sneaking nervous glances at each other. When they're down to their underwear, she hesitates and he seems to sense it.

"I can turn off that lamp over there," Peeta offers, looking at the the floor lamp in the corner.

"Okay."

He gets up and Katniss watches the muscles of his shoulders and back move as he makes his way across the room in his boxer shorts. She licks her lips, thinking how grateful she should be, not just that he's so beautiful, but that he's so..._good_. And _Peeta_. And she could ruin him, whether she stays or goes.

He flicks off the lamp and turns to give her such a sweet smile that she seems to shrink in her skin. He moves back to the bed, the room now illuminated only by the small lamp on his desk.

When Peeta settles back down next to her, his hands and eyes return to a searing exploration of her mostly nude body, his fingers catching on the elastic of her underwear as they run from hip to thigh.

"I'm-" Katniss starts. "I like it when you're on top of me." She does, for many different reasons, but his answering smile is a relief.

Peeta pulls himself over her, his hips settling between her legs. He moves to kiss her again, his lips gentle as they brush hers, steadily applying more pressure and coaxing hers open. When their tongues tangle, she makes a noise that is embarrassingly loud in the tight space. This only causes Peeta to groan in response, his fingers abandoning their exploration of her abdomen to find her hand and tangle them with hers. It's too intimate. Too tender. The touches, the noises. And this all feels like it's taking an _eternity. _She wants to get lost, and though she's never quite managed that with the other men, it was at least over relatively quickly and she could get up and get dressed and get off in the comfort and privacy of her own bed.

Peeta is just too close. It's like he's stealing the air she's breathing and eclipsing her body beneath his own and before, she wanted that- to be obscured- but now she can't untangle her limbs from his.

She frantically grasps at the waistband of his boxer shorts. He pulls back and looks at her with eyes that are wide with questions. "Don't talk," she says shortly, colder than she intended.

His brow furrows, but he says nothing, just continues to search her face for a long moment before he complies, and then begins to pull his shorts down. When he makes a move to return to his position above her, she lifts her hips up, motioning for him to take hers too. He stutters something incoherent, before snapping his mouth shut and pulling her underwear down her legs with almost grave determination.

Peeta is on top of her again in an instant, returning to that place he discovered on her neck, the one that feels like a weakness, and she bites her lip to keep from whimpering. Without any direction from her, his fingers travel over her skin, raising tiny, almost invisible hairs on the skin of her stomach, before dipping down and delving between her folds.

His fingers travel up and down a few times and her hips are just about to start following his movements shamelessly, but he halts near the top and his fingers seem to stumble through the slickness like he's searching for something. She wants to say something, something that will smooth the wrinkles from his brow, but her mouth is too dry. His ears are turning pink again and she hears the barely audible exhale from his lips, a huff of frustration and embarrassment, before he seems to give up and slides his fingers back down.

That feels good, the movement of his large, calloused fingers against her slick, sensitive skin. But then they're delving inside her, almost uncomfortably because it's been so long. He's studying her face while he does it, so she closes her eyes and tries to control her expressions. It doesn't hurt, but it doesn't really feel like anything explosive either. Nothing is building up the way it should and she's cursing her own, stupid body when he speaks.

"Does that-feel okay?" he asks cautiously, almost grimly like he knows "okay" is the best he can hope for.

"Um…" Katniss starts. His fingers halt.

_Fuck_.

She shouldn't have said that. "Um." It's how she starts most of her sentences, but it's definitely not what he's looking for. It's not something you say in the throes of passion. It's not something you say to a sweet boy who looks at you like you're the only woman he's ever seen on earth.

And it shouldn't have been a sentence anyway. It should have been a moan or a sigh or some incoherent expression of ecstasy.

"Keep going," she says frantically. He's not bad with his hands, she knows this. He can't really be bad at anything, she suspects. She just doesn't know how to unlock that thing within him that will make him remember that- it seems like nothing she's saying or doing is coming close to coaxing it out of him.

But Peeta's fingers begin to move again. She tries to raise her hips like she had wanted to before, to chase the movement and add to it. Maybe that would help. Peeta takes that moment to bring his thumb into the mix, returning it to that place where he seemed so lost before. It catches on the hood of her clit and she gasps. His eyes fly to her face, desperate to read any reaction. Katniss licks her lips and finds her eyes meeting his steadily.

But then his thumb begins to tap a rhythm against her clit. Katniss can't keep her face from pinching in confusion. The tapping of his thumb seems to throw off the movement of his fingers inside her as well. Katniss is thankful his eyes aren't on her for once, but he's staring down between them with such intense focus, almost agitation. She would normally be embarrassed at a guy- and well, _Peeta-_ staring intently at her vagina, but she's too confused to think about it. He looks like he's trying to crack some secret and he's working it out in Morse code.

"Peeta," she starts timidly.

"Yeah," he breathes, stopping his hand completely, head hanging.

"That feels good, but maybe we could just…" He looks up and she tries to smile bracingly at him, shrugging her shoulders. His eyes follow the way the movement lifts her breasts. "If you have a condom," she adds.

"I...I do," Peeta says, half in wonder. When she continues to look up at him expectantly, he stumbles forward. "Not because I thought...you know, that you and I-or me and _anyone_...I just-"

"Peeta," she says lightly, stifling a laugh. "It's okay."

"No, I just mean. I have a fire extinguisher, too, ya know? It's not like I ever think I'm gonna use that either. Not that I _want_ to use that-"

"Are they in this drawer?" Katniss interrupts, reaching out for his nightstand.

She fumbles around before his left hand settles over hers, stilling it for a second and stealing the breath from her lungs. Which is ridiculous, because his other hand is still settled firmly over her crotch.

Peeta settles back on his side and finally removes his hand from between her legs. He goes to open the packet, but his slick fingers fumble over the foil. Katniss almost offers to help, but before she can, he brings his fingers to his lips, the ones still wet with her arousal, and sucks them clean. His eyes flutter shut for a second. Katniss' heart stops and she can feel herself becoming wetter, even more than she was with his fingers inside her. Peeta doesn't seem to notice her change in demeanor. The heightened flush on her cheeks. He just wipes his hand on his bedspread to dry them before finally getting the foil open.

Katniss instinctively opens her legs for him again and he sits between them on his haunches, rolling the condom down his length. It's the first time she's _really_ looked at him, at _it_. There was always a part of her that assumed she should be more turned on by the feel of the male organ, by what it could do to her, than what it looked like- so blunt and inelegant. But she likes the look of him. Really likes it, she thinks in the five seconds she has to study it before he rolls the condom on. She swallows the extra saliva in her mouth.

Once Peeta has it on, he lowers himself slowly back over her. She spreads her legs further to allow him to settle in, his hips coming to rest between hers almost too naturally. They both gasp at the feeling of him sliding against her; even through the condom, the sensation seems to be pleasurable enough to make his eyes shut and heavy breaths to come through his nose.

"Are you sure this is okay?" Katniss asks. She feels stupid the moment the words leave her mouth, but he looks so nervous and this could be _all wrong_- the time, the place, how little they know about each other- but he'd know that better than she would. So she has to ask.

Peeta lets out a breathless, incredulous laugh. But his eyes grow serious.

"Yes," he says. "As long as you are."

Katniss bites her lip and nods quickly.

Peeta leans down and kisses her softly; it surprises her more than the heavy length of him between her thighs. He pulls his lips away before she can begin to respond.

His hand is reaching down between them and she can feel the head of his cock rubbing between her lips. She inhales sharply. He seems to fumble for a minute with where he should...start. So Katniss looks away, aware that her eyes on his movements will only make him nervous; and her too, maybe, seeing the flesh and blood reality of all of it.

Katniss fixes her gaze on his bicep, where it's holding up the weight of him over her; the muscles tremble slightly beneath his smooth skin, but by the looks of his arms, he could hold himself there for hours. She gets the strange urge to sink her teeth into it the firm skin. Instead, she turns her head ever so slightly to leave a soft kiss on his bicep and Peeta enters her slowly.

When he's more than halfway in, Katniss starts to grimace. She doesn't even know she's doing it, but Peeta's hazy, unfocused eyes sharpen when he takes in her expression.

"Am I hurting you?" he asks, his voice tender, but rumbling in his chest where she can feel it pressed against hers.

"This isn't my first time," she blurts out, suddenly horrified that he could get that impression.

"O-okay," Peeta says with a light laugh, but the sound is strained. "But am I hurting you?"

He sweeps a strand of hair away from her face and the tension in her forehead smoothes out.

"I'm fine," she whispers. "Just...been a while."

"Me too," he whispers back. He manages to make the deep blue of his eyes seem warm instead of cool.

Peeta kisses the tip of her nose and pushes gently the rest of the way in. Katniss forces herself to release a breath she didn't know she was holding, and his hand comes to rest on her thigh. She inwardly curses the fact that she never shaves that high up, but his hand runs back and forth against the skin, unencumbered by the tiny hairs, and it coaxes her to open her legs even more, relaxing them against the bed.

At this, he slides in even deeper, if that's possible, and his forehead falls suddenly against the pillow above her shoulder. Peeta stays there for a second, gripping the pillow tightly above her head where she's currently caged in. His entire upper body heaves with his deep, steady breaths, and she's about to ask if he's okay, when he pushes himself back up again.

Katniss is barely aware that her mouth is hanging slightly open, watching and waiting for his every movement. He feels good there, inside of her, even still, even in the almost unbearable silence. But so close. Too close. He has to start moving. She shouldn't be thinking this much. This is the opposite of what she always thought sex was supposed to be about.

Katniss plants her feet on the bed and thrusts against him gently to get him moving. It tears a groan from his throat that affects her more than the silence and the screaming thoughts in her head.

But it does get him to start moving. Peeta builds up a rhythm, one that's careful and sometimes a bit clumsy, never thrusting too hard, sometimes losing the motion for a second. And again, it feels good, but not quite enough. He's staring down at her, biting his lip as if the sight of her does even more than the gentle thrusts of his hips.

So she pulls him down so she can bury her face in his neck. Which smells good. So good. She can't resist running her lips along the smooth skin, and she's about to trace the muscles of his shoulder with her tongue-an intention she'd barely beeen conscious of before he suddenly loses his rhythm altogether.

"Sorry," he mumbles.

Since she pulled him down against her, their chests have been pressed together and she likes the way her nipples scrape against his chest, and the way his thrusts have become shallower, just grazing the hood of her clit with his cock. But she can see him second guess himself, and he props himself up on his arm again. He uses his free arm to cup her breast, his fingers sweeping over her nipple and making the skin tighten and pebble.

Her head is tilting back into the pillow when he loses his rhythm again. She sees that his arm is shaking.

"Um, Peeta," she says gently, running a hand down his chest.

"Mmm," he mumbles in response, voice strained. "I'm-I'm sorry this isn't…" He trails off, eyes shut tight. He opens them again, seemingly refocused. "I can try something else."

Katniss merely blinks at him. She has no idea what that even means. If it were anyone else, she might thoughtlessly suggest that they at least get this right before moving onto something else, but he looks so hopeful.

His hand is reaching for her thigh again, and she remembers liking that so yes, maybe-

Peeta grasps her thigh, smoothing his hand down the length of her leg until he's moving it out to the side and trying to pull it over his shoulder.

Katniss hisses loudly, both at the unexpected stretching of her limb, and the way his cock slides into her so deeply that it hurts, definitely hitting something it shouldn't hit and _fuck_ she should have paid attention in Health and Safety or Anatomy or Madge's disgustingly frank conversations with Glimmer, because this is not something you learn about in vanilla porn.

"What is that-am-I'm sorry! Are you okay?" The words leave his mouth in a panicked rush and he grips her ankle and eases her leg back down to the bed as gently as if she were made of glass.

And she feels like an idiot. She could have said something like, _no, no, just give me a minute to adjust_, or at least pretended that her experiences hadn't been limited to missionary. But she just mumbles some version of "it's okay" and he leaves a gentle kiss on her forehead, so tentative it almost seems like he's afraid to touch her.

Which is ridiculous. Because he's balls deep inside of her. But her body is just cold and frigid and rejecting him like it would a splinter because she is _so_ _clearly_ not made for this. And he's made for so much more, his skin soft and pliant and sweet to taste, like he's a peach ripened by the sun and she's an ice box. She curses herself mentally.

"Let's just keep going," she says, trying and failing to hide the tightness in her voice.

Peeta nods against her hair.

He picks up the rhythm again and even though it isn't smooth and practiced, it's enough to get her to realize she likes it. She likes him there, so hard where she's soft, sliding between her walls like he belongs there. And that thought is enough to mentally throw her off from whatever might have been building. She clenches her jaw in frustration. And she must unconsciously clench elsewhere too, because Peeta groans and buries his head in her neck.

"Fuck," she thinks she hears him whisper, and just like the sight of him sucking on his wet fingers did earlier, the sound of this dirty word against her ear from the mouth of a boy who looks like an angel sends a jolt through her body. "I'm not- I don't think I can-"

He cuts himself off with a quiet moan, his thrusts getting clumsy again. But he licks and bites at the skin of her neck almost desperately and she moans in response, drawing another curse from him. He even manages to bring a hand up to caress her skin from hip to shoulder, stopping at her breast and pinching her nipple. And it feels so good, their skin growing slick against each other, but not enough to bring her there, not with her mind and her body running in completely opposite directions.

"Will you touch yourself?"

It's so abrupt that it makes her own hips halt their gentle rocking motions; or maybe it just felt abrupt because she'd never expected him to say anything like that. Ever.

"What? I-no," she says, laughing incredulously.

"Please, Katniss, just-" Peeta pulls her hand away from where it was gripping his back and brings it down between them. She just stares at him in shock. "I'm not gonna last long. I just...want you to enjoy this."

At this, he nudges his hips forward, his cock grazing her walls and reminding her of its presence, something she had almost forgotten in her momentary shock.

"Mmm, please," he breathes into her ear, picking up his movements again, pushing into her more roughly than before.

She shoves his face back into her neck so he can't watch her and decides just to humor him. There's no way she's going to finish and there's no way he's going to last long, so she'll just do this and maybe...fake an orgasm?

_God. No. _She can't do that. She's a horrible actress to begin with, but the only reason real orgasms don't embarrass her is because she's usually too caught up in the moment to care. But she definitely can't lay here, head (mostly) clear and eyes open, and start scrunching up her face in fake ecstasy. She's cringing just at the thought.

But she does start moving her fingers. Almost unconsciously. Timidly. But as he pants against her ear, his strong hand gripping firmly to her hip, his soft waves grazing her forehead...it all starts to feel good.

Until he comes abruptly with a load groan.

"Oh fuck, Katniss," he pants desperately into the skin of her neck, his hips jerking with the last of his orgasm.

They finally still against hers, and so do her fingers; she's holding her breath while he lets out a deep one. The sweat where their stomachs are pressed together starts to grow cool in the air, and she expects him to flop over exhaustedly like the other guys did. But when he senses his weight on her is becoming too much, he merely pushes up from his elbows again.

His hand immediately reaches down between them and presses against hers, where it had been trapped between their bodies. Katniss' mouth drops open when he urges her fingers to keep moving.

"Peeta-" she gasps.

"Keep going," he urges sweetly, his blue eyes fairly begging her.

She opens her mouth to protest further, but all that comes out is sputtering nonsense. But it's ridiculous. She's not going to do _that_- get herself off in front of him, _underneath him_, while he watches silently, already content with his own release, still inside of her and still...hard.

He's still hard.

Not fully of course, but his erection hasn't completely flagged like she always assumed it did immediately afterward. And his fingers are still pushing hers in gentle motions, and before she knows it, she's moving them in circles, his fingers lightly following hers and trying to learn the movement.

Katniss turns her head and presses her face into the pillow. Peeta takes this as a sign and stops watching her, instead moving his face to her neck where he trails his tongue across the skin up to her ear before taking the lobe into his mouth.

"Mmm, oh god," Katniss gasps into the pillow, her hips jerking upwards. She uses the practiced motions she knows will get her off the quickest, but it doesn't hurt still having him there inside her, half-hard, his tongue laving her skin, his perfectly sculpted chest looming above her, the scent of his pillow-

"Oh! Fuck, fuck," she pants as her orgasm seizes her, and tries to bury the embarrassing noises further into the pillow as the pleasure crests, electricity shooting down to her toes. Her free hand claws at his broad back while aftershocks overtake her, her muscles still jumping and unclenching as she comes down from her high.

"Um," Peeta says with a sheepish laugh, interrupting the soft kisses he was showering on her face through her release, "I'm gonna-"

He pulls out gently and she can see that he was possibly even harder than he had been a few minutes ago, but he simply moves to the trash can by his desk, discarding of the condom and grabbing a few tissues to clean up. He offers her one across the small space, unabashed in his nudity, but she merely blushes and shakes her head, pulling the sheet over her.

"I can just use the bathroom to clean up," Katniss says quietly as he settles in beside her.

"It's down the hall," Peeta says, drawing near to her and running his hand up her side. "But it's kind of a shared bathroom."

"Oh," Katniss says quietly, her head settling on his chest. The last thing she wants to do is scamper down the hall in her disheveled clothing to clean herself off in a bathroom where anyone could walk in.

What she really wants is a shower. In her own private bathroom next to her bedroom where she can grab her most comfortable PJs and spread out in her own bed. But she can't do that. She _knows_ she can't. And it's not that it isn't nice, lying here in his arms, his fingers running sweetly through her hair. It's that it's almost _too_ nice, and she can't remember the last time she was pressed up against someone for this long. Maybe because she never has. And it's this thought that makes her spine stiffen.

Peeta seems to sense her tension because his hand halts for a moment. But if he has anything to say, he stifles the urge and nuzzles his nose into her hair instead. The silence is almost oppressive and she wishes he'd just _fall asleep_.

As if the sex weren't awkward enough. This is almost worse, both of them lying stiffly, clearly miles from sleep. The afterglow has worn off and their bodies aren't slack with exhaustion like they should be. They're too aware of each other, or at least, she is of him. She can hear his steady breaths, but they're not slowing into drowsiness. She's actually terrified that she shushed him into near-muteness and he won't make any jokes to put her at ease, or whisper sweet nothings that will make her squirm, or at least say something reassuring and steady, the way he always does when he's putting someone at ease.

Katniss shifts, moving her bare back away from the cold wall behind her. Peeta tries to scooch over to accommodate her, but it looks like he's centimeters away from falling off the bed, even closely entwined with her. She moves back to where she was with a small, unconscious huff. Of course, he picks up on it.

"Sorry the bed is tiny," Peeta apologizes, lips turning up in a small smile. "Um, maybe I can sleep on the floor, or-?"

"Peeta," she laughs shortly, "I'm not gonna make you do that. Don't be ridiculous."

"Or if you need to go home for your stuff, or…" he trails off, scratching his ear sheepishly.

Katniss lifts her head at this. The smile drops off his face.

"Oh."

"No!"

They speak at the same time, Peeta reluctantly, and Katniss insistently, trying to make him think that it's the last thing she wants, even though her whole body perked up at the suggestion.

It's not that she wants to run out of here after their night together. She kind of hates herself for considering it. But it's just about comfort. And peace of mind. And she's not going to achieve either of those things lying next to him all night, his body entwined with hers, probably overwhelming her as much as her racing thoughts will.

She doesn't even know what this makes them, though the devastated look on his face tells her exactly what he wants them to be.

It was just one date she had promised. Just one. Her mind didn't (_couldn't_) follow that trail any further. And maybe if the sex had been amazing, it could have just been that, in the convenient way people talk about, like it's just going to the gym to work out some tension. Or if the date had been bad, it could have been the last one.

But all this expectation and potential for hurt when she's increasingly convinced there's something just not right about the two of them together...it's too much.

"I can walk you home, Katniss," he says quietly, as though he could read the thoughts in her head during her pregnant pause. She tries to reach for him, but he doesn't notice because he's already pulling away, swinging his legs off the side of the bed. She feels the loss of him like a stab in her gut. "I don't want you to be awake and uncomfortable all night."

Peeta reaches for her clothes first, placing them on the bed beside her without meeting her eyes. He pulls his boxers on and she watches him walk around the room, the muscles in his back moving when he bends over to pull on his khakis before pulling the discarded sweater back over his head, ruffling his hair even more. She tries to flatten her own, probably obvious, sex hair. Then, she quickly pulls on her clothes before he can turn back to her.

After she slips on her flats, she stands to find him rifling through a drawer. She fidgets nervously with her hands.

"It's cold outside," Peeta says after a moment, shutting the drawer and handing her a heather gray sweatshirt with their high school logo and his last name on the back. Katniss blinks at him. "It's a few years old, so I figured you wouldn't be swimming in it." He shrugs and his eyes meet hers finally, but flit away after a brief moment.

When she starts to put it on, she takes a moment in the darkness to squeeze her eyes shut against the unexpected moisture building, before poking her head through and adjusting the collar, hoping he won't notice the way her nose has probably turned red.

The walk across the quad is silent and she wraps her arms around herself so she doesn't have to wonder if he'd hold her hand if they were dangling down by her side. And she doesn't have to think about the fact that she'd be disappointed if he didn't.

Every few steps, she thinks she feels his hand on her back again, but it's so light through the thick, loose sweatshirt that she can't tell.

When they get to the front steps, she turns to him to say goodnight, but he merely reaches around to hold the door open for her and follows her to her front door. She turns to him again and his face is solemn, his eyes dull.

They were here just a week ago, in a similar position. And though she was filled with a similar nervous stirring in the pit of her gut, last week was full of frightening possibilities, and the fear this time is tied to some kind of sad finality. And she's even more depressed by the fact that she was the one to bring it about. She misses his warm sheets already.

"Thanks for coming out, Katniss," Peeta says, forcing a smile that doesn't reach his eyes.

It's not as though he can thank her for the rest of it, not without sounding like a creep, but it stings to hear him refer to their date and nothing else, like the rest of it didn't happen; though in the past, she was always happy to immediately try to burn all the awkward experiences from her brain as soon as she was dressed again.

Katniss takes a step forward and he eyes her nervously, like he doesn't know if he's going to get slapped or kissed. And she hates that she put that look on his face.

She stretches up on her tip toes and kisses his cheek. "Goodnight, Peeta," she says, lingering against the stubble on his cheek before forcing herself to take a step back, shooting him a pained smile, and immediately shoving her key into the lock.

When she gets inside, she marches straight past Madge, who shouts questions at her from the couch, and falls asleep in his sweatshirt, her pillow held close to her heaving chest.

* * *

**A/N: As always, apologies for the wait. There will be one more chapter after this, if you're curious. :) Many thanks to didntheramble and misshoneywell for their immeasurable help in bouncing ideas back and forth, and to amelia-day for pre-reading. Find me on Tumblr at dirtytalkingpeeta. Obviously. **


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